


A Whole New World

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Baby Gil-galad, Family Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Nervousness, Slightly Annoyed Maedhros, Terrified New Father Fingon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 11:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20406847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: Fingon, son of Fingolfin, and High King of the Nolder, is reduced to a shivering mess of worry by his own newborn child.Maedhros is relieved to see this, even if it is a bit annoying at times.





	A Whole New World

“Are you well, melethron?” Fingon inquired, voice lowered and spoken cautiously so that he would not wake his newborn son, who rested soundly in his cradle near his mother’s bedside. 

Maedhros did not look to be nearly as pale as he had been the day before, but his eyes were heavy and he hadn’t the strength to move about the room much.

“I am healing.” He answered Fingon, reassuring his lover with a soft smile.

The King frowned still, however, and he sat down carefully on the end of the bed, reaching out to feel his beloved’s forehead, checking for any sign of a fever. 

“I am healing.” Maedhros repeated himself. “What are you doing, meleth? I am not stricken with disease.”

“My apologies.” Fingon sighed, moving his hand away again and bending down so that he could place a gentle kiss against Maedhros’ forehead. “But I do worry. It was a difficult delivery.”

“Thank you for your assessment, dear one. I was not fully aware of the severity.” 

Fingon laughed then at his cousin’s sarcastic jab. “How is our child?” He asked then, now that he had been assured that Maedhros was truly recovering from the birth. 

“He is perfect.” Maedhros smiled, turning his head slowly so that he might look upon his son sleeping peacefully in his cradle. “You have not held him, melethron.” He said to Fingon then. “Why?”

The High King bit his lower lip nervously and looked down into the tiny elfling’s cradle. His son was so beautiful but so very small. He worried now, as he had since Ereinion’s birth the day before, that he would harm the little infant somehow if he took him into his arms.

“I do not trust myself.” Fingon answered Maedhros, swallowing hard as he sensed the look he was being given by his lover.

“You are the High King of the Noldor and a great warrior of our people.” Maedhros reminded his cousin. “You are strong and powerful, yes, but you can be gentle when tenderness is required of you. I do not believe that you would harm our son.”

“I could drop him.” Fingon worried.

“You will not.” Maedhros promised the King. “Now, meleth, please.” He begged his lover. “He will need to be fed soon. Pick him up and bring him to me.”

Fingon hesitated for a moment and let go a heavy sigh. Finally, he stood from the bed and peered over into the bassinet at his son. 

“He is so tiny, Mataimo.” He spoke softly to his lover, hesitating once more to pick the infant up.

“The healers have been handling him all through the night.” Maedhros assured the King another time. “None have dropped him or injured him yet. I have held him many times and have but one hand. I have not dropped him. I do not believe that you will either. How many times must I say this?”

Fingon sighed deeply again and finally pushed back his fears, willing himself to reach carefully into the cradle and lift the sleeping baby into his arms.

Ereinion made a tiny squeaking noise at his father as he was moved and Fingon’s eyes widened with terror.

Maedhros laughed softly. “He’s only saying hello, meleth. Do not be afraid.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.” Fingon frowned, his heart racing as he held the fussing newborn.

“You have not harmed him in any way.” His lover promised. “Bring him to me, my love. He is only angry because he is hungry.”

Fingon cradled his son carefully against his breast and slowly brought little Ereinion over to the bed where Maedhros laid beneath the silk sheets, his arms outstretched to receive his upset infant.

“How do I...?” Fingon began to ask anxiously as he attempted to hand their child over to his mother. “Your hand, meleth. You can’t support his head like that.”

“Give me my son, Fingon.” Maedhros sighed heavily. “I assure you, I am perfectly capable of holding him...Place his head against the crook of my elbow.”

Fingon gave a frustrated sigh before very carefully placing his precious child into the arms of his waiting mother. 

“Careful, Maitimo.” He worried as he let go of Ereinion as slowly as possible. 

“I’ve got him, melethron. Everything is fine.” Maedhros muttered, leaning down to kiss the baby when he began to cry. 

“What’s happened!?” Fingon fretted, reaching for their son once again.

Maedhros frowned and cradled the elfling protectively against his chest. “He is crying, meleth, because he is impatient. I simply need to nurse him.”

Fingon reluctantly backed away to give Maedhros a bit more space, and watched with a pounding heart as his lover somehow managed to maneuver his one intact hand to open up his nightgown. 

“Let me help you...” Fingon offered.

“No.” Maedhros refused. “I told you one and this is the last time I will repeat myself. I am perfectly capable of holding this child.”

To further prove his point, the son of Fëanor proceeded to position the baby in his arms so that he could properly feed, and then began to rather difficult process of getting Ereinion to latch on. 

Fingon let out a long breath once their son finally began to nurse from his mother. “I am sorry, my love.” He said to Maedhros. “I worry.”

“Oh, yes, I know.” His fiery locked paramour chuckled. “You have been inconsolable since Ereinion’s birth.”

Fingon came close once again and sat down on the very edge of the bed, looking down to their beautiful little child. “Shouldn’t a father worry for his son?”

“Yes, he should.” Maedhros agreed. “Though, not all of them do...I suppose that is what separates the good fathers from the bad.”

Fingon gave his lover a sympathetic smile and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Was that a compliment?” He asked him then with a sly smirk.

Maedhros rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. “Yes, melethron.” He assured the King. “You are a wonderful father already.”


End file.
